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filled the cabin as the car sailed forward, pulling away from the SUV by a few feet. Leopold turned to face the front and saw the speedometer hit ninety miles per hour, ninety five. One hundred. Then he saw the bend approach.
    Jerome steered into the turn and the Mulsanne’s computer-assisted traction control kicked in. The system engaged the rear brakes for a split second and sent more power to the outer wheels, helping guide the heavy chassis round the tight corner. Unfortunately, the SUV had no intention of making the turn, and increased its speed on approach. Leopold already knew what would happen next. He felt the car lurch forward with a deafening crunch as the other vehicle slammed into their back, sending the Bentley spinning out of control. He heard the sound of screeching metal and then there was darkness.
     

Chapter 8
    The first thing Leopold noticed when he woke was the smell of gasoline and metal. As his ears began to function he could hear the Bentley’s chassis groaning under its own weight and the sound of footsteps crunching through broken glass. His vision returned, and he could just about make out the still body of Jerome in the driver’s seat and realized the car had been tipped upside down. He heard the door wrench open and felt a strong grip pull him out onto the road by his ankles. Fading in and out of consciousness, he saw the same thing happen to Jerome.
    “Is he alive?”
    Leopold made out the husky voice, though he couldn’t see whom it belonged to. From the accent he guessed its owner was Eastern European, probably Czech.
    “Looks like it,” said another voice.
    “Good. We can have some fun.”
    He felt a kick to his side and let out a gasp. The two men jeered and positioned themselves at either end of his body, one grabbing him by the arms and the other supporting his legs. They hoisted him off the road and effortlessly carried him over to the SUV, tossing him into the back seat. The door slammed close to his face, causing him to finally snap out of his daze and sit up. His headache had suddenly gotten a lot worse. He stared at the two men, fixing their faces in his mind. Both were a little over six feet tall, with shaved heads and arms as thick as their legs. Imposing, but not in the same league as Jerome. Both carried handguns tucked into their jeans and both had an assortment of tattoos on their bulging forearms. They glared back menacingly, showing their yellow teeth, close enough for their breath to fog the glass. Leopold looked over to where Jerome had been lying. He had vanished.
    The two men must have sensed something was wrong and immediately turned to where the bodyguard had been seconds earlier, expressions of confusion on their ragged faces. They stalked over to the upturned Bentley and drew their weapons, searching for their prey. One of the men stepped toward the front of the car and peered around the crumpled hood. That was when Jerome attacked. The bodyguard’s palm connected with the man’s throat, choking him as his larynx collapsed and his airways filled with blood. In the split second it took the injured man to realize what had happened, Jerome grasped his forearm, turned on his heel, and flipped the man over his shoulders with such force that Leopold heard him shriek as he smashed into the road.
    He watched the giant bodyguard quickly bring his palm down onto the man’s elbow while pulling the wrist upwards, snapping the arm. The Czech squealed in pain and horror as bone sliced through his tattooed skin, falling silent as Jerome slammed his skull into the asphalt. Grabbing the unconscious man’s firearm, Jerome raised the weapon level with the other attacker and fired, just as the second assailant brought his own gun up to take a shot. His head exploded in a mist of crimson and he dropped to the ground, just a few feet away. Leopold saw Jerome lean in closer to the first man, checking for a pulse, before walking back to the SUV and opening the door to help his